Eleven

MRS. LORRIMER

111 Cheyne Lane was a small house of very neat and trim appearance standing¹ in a quiet street.

The door was painted black and the steps were particularly well whitened, the brass² of the knockerand handle gleamed in the afternoon sun.

The door was opened by an elderly parlourmaid with an immaculate white cap and apron³.

In answer to Poirot’s inquiry⁴ she said that her mistress was at home.

She preceded him up the narrow staircase.

“What name, sir?”

“M. Hercule Poirot.”

He was ushered⁵ into a drawing room of the usual L shape. Poirot looked about him, notingdetails. Good furniture, well polished, of the old family type. Shiny chintz on the chairs andsettees. A few silver photograph frames about in the old- fashioned manner. Otherwise anagreeable amount of space and light, and some really beautiful chrysanthemums⁶ arranged in a talljar.

Mrs. Lorrimer came forward to meet him.

She shook hands without showing any particular surprise at seeing him, indicated a chair, tookone herself and remarked favourably⁷ on the weather.

There was a pause.

“I hope, madame,” said Hercule Poirot, “that you will forgive this visit.”

Looking directly at him, Mrs. Lorrimer asked:

“Is this a professional visit?”

“I confess it.”

“You realize, I suppose, M. Poirot, that though I shall naturally give Superintendent⁸ Battle andthe official police any information and help they may require, I am by no means bound to do thesame for any unofficial investigator⁹?”

“I am quite aware of that fact, madame. If you show me the door, me, I march to that door withcomplete submission¹⁰.”

Mrs. Lorrimer smiled very slightly.

“I am not yet prepared to go to those extremes, M. Poirot. I can give you ten minutes. At theend of that time I have to go out to a bridge party.”

“Ten minutes will be ample for my purpose. I want you to describe to me, madame, the room inwhich you played bridge the other evening—the room in which Mr. Shaitana was killed.”

Mrs. Lorrimer’s eyebrows¹¹ rose.

“What an extraordinary question! I do not see the point of it.”

“Madame, if when you were playing bridge, someone were to say to you—why do you play thatace or why do you put on the knave¹² that is taken by the queen and not the king which would takethe trick? If people were to ask you such questions, the answers would be rather long and tedious,would they not?”

Mrs. Lorrimer smiled slightly.

“Meaning that in this game you are the expert and I am the novice¹³. Very well.” She reflected aminute. “It was a large room. There were a good many things in it.”

“Can you describe some of those things?”

“There were some glass flowers—modern—rather beautiful … And I think there were someChinese or Japanese pictures. And there was a bowl of tiny red tulips—amazingly early for them.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t notice anything in detail.”

“The furniture—do you remember the colour of the upholstery?”

“Something silky, I think. That’s all I can say.”

“Did you notice any of the small objects?”

“I’m afraid not. There were so many. I know it struck me as quite a collector’s room.”

There was silence for a minute. Mrs. Lorrimer said with a faint smile:

“I’m afraid I have not been very helpful.”

“There is something else.” He produced the bridge scores. “Here are the first three rubbersplayed. I wondered if you could help me with the aid of these scores to reconstruct the hands.”

“Let me see.” Mrs. Lorrimer looked interested. She bent¹⁴ over the scores.

“That was the first rubber. Miss Meredith and I were playing against the two men. The firstgame was played in four spades. We made it and an over trick. Then the next hand was left at twodiamonds and Dr. Roberts went down one trick on it. There was quite a lot of bidding on the thirdhand, I remember. Miss Meredith passed. Major Despard went a heart. I passed. Dr. Roberts gavea jump bid of three clubs. Miss Meredith went three spades. Major Despard bid four diamonds. Idoubled. Dr. Roberts took it into four hearts. They went down one.”

“Epatant,” said Poirot. “What a memory!”

Mrs. Lorrimer went on, disregarding him:

“On the next hand Major Despard passed and I bid a no trump¹⁵. Dr. Roberts bid three hearts. Mypartner said nothing. Despard put his partner to four. I doubled and they went down two tricks.

Then I dealt and we went out on a four-spade call.”

She took up the next score.

“It is difficult, that,” said Poirot. “Major Despard scores in the cancellation¹⁶ manner.”

“I rather fancy both sides went down fifty to start with—then Dr. Roberts went to five diamondsand we doubled and got him down to three tricks. Then we made three clubs, but immediatelyafter the others went game in spades. We made the second game in five clubs. Then we went downa hundred. The others made one heart, we made two no trumps¹⁷ and we finally won the rubber witha four-club call.”

She picked up the next score.

“This rubber was rather a battle, I remember. It started tamely. Major Despard and MissMeredith made a one-heart call. Then we went down a couple of fifties trying for four hearts andfour spades. Then the others made game in spades—no use trying to stop them. We went downthree hands running after that but undoubled. Then we won the second game in no trumps. Then abattle royal started. Each side went down in turn. Dr. Roberts overcalled but though he went downbadly once or twice, his calling paid, for more than once he frightened Miss Meredith out ofbidding her hand. Then he bid an original two spades, I gave him three diamonds, he bid four notrumps, I bid five spades and he suddenly jumped to seven diamonds. We were doubled, of course.

He had no business to make such a call. By a kind of miracle we got it. I never thought we shouldwhen I saw his hand go down. If the others had led a heart we would have been three tricks down.

As it was they led the king of clubs and we got it. It was really very exciting.”

“Je crois bien—a Grand Slam Vulnerable doubled. It causes the emotions, that! Me, I admit it, Ihave not the nerve to go for the slams. I content myself with the game.”

“Oh, but you shouldn’t,” said Mrs. Lorrimer with energy. “You must play the game properly.”

“Take risks, you mean?”

“There is no risk if the bidding is correct. It should be a mathematical certainty. Unfortunately,few people really bid well. They know the opening bids but later they lose their heads. Theycannot distinguish between a hand with winning cards in it and a hand without losing cards—but Imustn’t give you a lecture on bridge, or on the losing count, M. Poirot.”

“It would improve my play, I am sure, madame.”

Mrs. Lorrimer resumed her study of the score.

“After that excitement the next hands were rather tame. Have you the fourth score there? Ah,yes. A ding-dong battle—neither side able to score below.”

“It is often like that as the evening wears on.”

“Yes, one starts tamely and then the cards get worked up.”

Poirot collected the scores and made a little bow.

“Madame, I congratulate you. Your card memory is magnificent — but magnificent! Youremember, one might say, every card that was played!”

“I believe I do!”

“Memory is a wonderful gift. With it the past is never the past—I should imagine, madame, thatto you the past unrolls itself, every incident clear as yesterday. Is that so?”

She looked at him quickly. Her eyes were wide and dark.

It was only for a moment, then she had resumed her woman-of-the-world manner, but HerculePoirot did not doubt. That shot had gone home.

Mrs. Lorrimer rose.

“I’m afraid I shall have to leave now. I am so sorry—but I really mustn’t be late.”

“Of course not—of course not. I apologize for trespassing¹⁸ on your time.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help you more.”

“But you have helped me,” said Hercule Poirot.

“I hardly think so.”

She spoke¹⁹ with decision.

“But yes. You have told me something I wanted to know.”

She asked no question as to what that something was.

He held out his hand.

“Thank you, madame, for your forbearance.”

As she shook hands with him she said:

“You are an extraordinary man, M. Poirot.”

“I am as the good God made me, madame.”

“We are all that, I suppose.”

“Not all, madame. Some of us have tried to improve on His pattern. Mr. Shaitana, for instance.”

“In what way do you mean?”

“He had a very pretty taste in objets de vertu and bric-à-brac—he should have been contentwith that. Instead, he collected other things.”

“What sort of things?”

“Well—shall we say—sensations?”

“And don’t you think that was dans son caractère?”

Poirot shook his head gravely.

“He played the part of the devil too successfully. But he was not the devil. Au fond, he was astupid man. And so—he died.”

“Because he was stupid?”

“It is the sin that is never forgiven and always punished, madame.”

There was a silence. Then Poirot said:

“I take my departure. A thousand thanks for your amiability²⁰, madame. I will not come againunless you send for me.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“Dear me, M. Poirot, why should I send for you?”

“You might. It is just an idea. If so, I will come. Remember that.”

He bowed once more and left the room.

In the street he said to himself:

“I am right … I am sure I am right … It must be that!”

 

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